


The Fox and The Wolf

by YourLovelyAlpha



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Photographer Derek, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Werefox Stiles, magic!Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 23:31:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2830019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourLovelyAlpha/pseuds/YourLovelyAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek finds an ordinary fox, that is until the gold tendrils begin to leak out of its leg wound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fox and The Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> This story is severely un-beta'd and I am very sorry for any and all grammar/spelling errors you may find on here. 
> 
> I've been working on this ficlet for a few months now and it was something I worked on whenever I felt down or lacked any motivation to do anything at all.  
> But hopefully you all will like it or at least find some nice fluff on here.
> 
> I really wanted to finish this because I wanted to start on a fic-series on here next so I'm really excited about how that'll work out in the future.
> 
> enjoy! :)

As a wildlife photographer for his family’s nature magazine for the last 7 years, Derek Hale has captured many things during that time period. Ranging from the falcon taking its prey straight from the stream to the more dramatic shots of two roaring grizzlies fighting in the middle of a forest to the tender care of a mother wolf playing with her pups, but this, this was the oddest thing Derek has yet to see.

He was doing a fall collection for their September spread and the goal was to capture the beauty that surrounded their home town. Derek had wide array of vibrant landscapes and energetic animals that galloped and pranced around Beacon Hills. He had traveled miles deep into the woods and meadows not worrying about being lost since he lucky enough to have been born a werewolf, most humans would have to carry a satellite GPS or hire a guide so they wouldn’t get lost if they didn’t know the lands, Derek considered himself one lucky man.

Err, lucky werewolf.

An alpha werewolf, thank you very much.

Derek ended up sitting in a small meadow with thick grass surrounding him as he placed his equipment down and began to set up his camera with one of his more favorable lenses, heavy in his palms, he was brought back to the memories of when he first got it two years ago and spent the entire day in the woods just taking photos of anything that captured his interest. He attached it to the body of his camera with great care. Looking around the meadow, he had spotted a small blur of orange walking in the distance which, judging by the scent that drifted in the air, was none other than a red fox.

This is where Derek found himself focusing on the pitter patter of the fox’s heartbeat as he kneeled down and began to zoom in and focus on the curious little fox that was trying its hardest to bite down on the butterflies that danced around it. The sight made Derek smile, “Stupid little fox.” he muttered with amusement as he began to take snapshots of the oblivious fox.

Or so he thought that the fox was oblivious.

Because as those words left his mouth, the fox abruptly stopped jumping and turned its head towards the werewolf, bright golden eyes squinting at him, it almost looked like it was glaring at him. Derek looked up from his camera and at the fox with the same glare he was being given. The fox didn’t make any sudden movements, almost as if he was frozen in place.

Derek figured he would make his next movements very careful if he wanted to get the last few good shots before he had to make the long journey home. He slowly crept to the grass covered ground and looked through his camera once more, feeling the cool grass on his grey henley. The fox was from what he could see, an adult male and with a blooming orange coat and legs that looked like they were dipped in the darkest black man has created. Derek thought the animals was absolutely beautiful. The fox cocked its head to the side and continued to stare at Derek for a really long time as Derek himself took the snapshots of the curious little creature.

Then it started to move towards him and pausing every few feet, just staring at Derek, eyes still squinting at him, as if determining whether or not the werewolf was a threat to his furry little body.

That was not normal.

Derek knew for a fact that abnormal friendliness was a sign of rabies in an animal such as wild foxes and despite having the ability to heal and an immune system that was practically on steroids, Derek was not fond of the idea of being bit by a mad fox. But curiosity did strike him, just how close would this fox get? And really, did he even have to worry about being bit considering he could just roar at the tiny thing and it would probably go scurrying off into the woods again?

So Derek stayed still on the grass and watched as the curious little fox crept closer and closer, its tail between its legs but Derek could see a timid little wag from time to time. And finally, after what seemed like an eternity of constant snapshots of the animal getting closer to him, the fox was now right in front of his camera, sniffing at the edges of the lens and making little squeals and yips of a happy but nervous fox, Derek was beyond baffled.

The fox crept up next to Derek and inspected the buttons of the camera with its cold wet nose, smearing liquid all over the screen and Derek, well he couldn’t help himself. He hit the play button and began to scroll through the images he had taken during his walk up here, determining which ones would go best with this month’s spread. The fox next to him seemed to be just as curious about the moving pictures as it was about the camera, tilting its head every so often with eyes completely focused on the pictures now. Derek took a silent whiff of the fox’s scent to see if it could detect any sort of sickness but to his surprise yet again, there was nothing. The fox itself smelled odd now that he thought about it, earthy and with a hint of something sweet like flowers and beneath that there was a small hint of musk. Where had he smelled that before?

His thoughts were interrupted by the small squeals of the fox who was ecstatically moving as it stared at the camera. The fox had recognized itself in Derek’s camera.

What the actual fuck?

Derek took a few more seconds on those shots in particular as he saw how the fox seemed to squeal with joy as Derek showed it the photos. Derek began to speculate that perhaps the fox had been domesticated at some point in its life for it to approach humans in such a manner but it still didn’t explain how he could have been so self-aware to be able to recognize itself in a foreign camera?

Then, a stupid idea for his final shot had struck him.

He turned off the camera and reached into his camera bag only to take out a much lighter and smaller lens that didn’t have such a massive zoom as the one on his camera at the moment. He switched them and turned the camera towards him and the fox.

The fox stared at him with the same curiosity in its eyes, Derek couldn’t help but smile.

“Smile for the camera.” He told the fox as the camera focused on their faces and took a photo.

Derek felt ridiculous, he was in the middle of nowhere with a possibly deranged fox next to him, taking a photo with it, but as he looked at the camera he seriously began to wonder just how bizarre this fox was.

The photo showed Derek low to the ground with a smile on his face that would make the sunshine look like a depressed teenager. The fox next to him was squinting its eyes. There was a smile on its face.

 

*

 

 If Stiles could tell the man with the camera just how much joy it brought him to see that he wasn’t out here to poach him, he would do so in sonnets and long detailed speeches of how overwhelmed he felt. To have the ability to interact with another human that wasn’t invested in ending his life or treating him like vermin. If Stiles could tell him that the body he possessed was his but also not his, he would. But this is the price he must pay, to live a life of solitude in the body of a red fox.

Over a year ago, his father had come down with a terrible illness that forced him to leave his position as Sheriff and find a new position as a patient in a hospital bed. Stiles could see day by day how his father’s life was beginning to drain out of his, his eyes began to cloud and his weight began to drop dangerously low, skin practically stretched over his cheekbones and eyes sunken with dark circles around them.

Stiles looked for answers within medical textbooks and internet articles, but none yielded results and the doctors themselves were beginning to grow weary as they had never seen a person’s health deteriorate so much.

But as always, the internet has a way of taking you off your intended path and into uncharted waters with sites you never intended on visiting.

Stiles turned to the supernatural for help, it was stupid and at the time, he felt desperate for a resolution, for answers to questions he didn’t know how to properly word in his head just yet.

Which is why he found himself in front of a house in the outskirts of Beacon Hills, it didn’t look any different than all the other houses, neatly trimmed grass, bright white trims and soft brown coated the house, a wind chime gently sang as the wind grazed over its thick bronze cylinders.

White witch, is what she called herself, a person who aided to help those who needed it, those who truly needed it but it was not without consequence or sacrifice. It’s how Stiles found himself withering in pain as his body contorted into a new and smaller body, with the mentality that he knew his father would be safe, would be ripe with health sooner or later. Melissa would take care of him, he knew that much as well.

“Life for a life, body for a body.” The witch told him with an ache in her heart as she saw the boy contort and grunt on the floor of her living room.

Stiles felt blessed to have passed out for most of the change, the last thing he heard was the witch telling him to howl at the moon, to let the world know his sacrifice would not be forgotten as long as he howled.

When Stiles woke up in the middle of a forest later that night, adjusting to his new body and newly developed senses, not knowing where he truly was, he felt so utterly alone, lost and defenseless. Knowing he would not be able to see his father again, who knows where the witch dropped him off at, but wherever it was, it smelled foreign and new.

He looked up at the dark sky above him, stars twinkling and the full moon bright as ever, the second one of the month.

A blue moon, rare and blessing Stiles with its presence.

Stiles howled and cried for the first time in the middle of the dark meadow for the first time as his new life began and his old one had ended, yearning for someone to respond to him.

But now, now as he looked at the man next to him, a beautiful man, who was showing him the various pictures he had taken with his camera, Stiles felt like he had regained a little bit of humanity even as he stared at the photos of his fox body.

“You are so weird.” He heard the man say but there was a smile on his face, showing off the pearly white bunny teeth. The man was getting up and packing up his camera equipment and just as soon as he had arrived, he began to leave. ‘ _No, please don’t leave me._ ’ Stiles begged in his head as he felt the man pet his head and head down the same path he came from. ‘ _Please don’t go, I don’t want to be alone again._ ’ Stiles’ heart pounded against his rib cage and agitation began to settle in his limbs, making them twitch and want to run to the man.

He did.

The man looked back at the trotting fox that followed him and for a moment, Stiles thought that maybe he would let him come home with him, dammit Stiles didn’t care if he would end up being someone’s pet; he just wanted to be near humans again. But then the man growled, an actual animalistic growl that humans should not be able to produce.

Oh shit.

He froze in mid-trot and began to whine, instincts telling him to submit and expose his belly to the obvious predator in front of him. Great, now he was going to be eaten by god knows whatever supernatural creature and never live to see his second year, was it his second year? Or was it his third? He really didn’t know at this point.

As the man approached him, Stiles’ whines became more timid and he closed his eyes and prayed that whatever was about to happen, for it to be quick and painless. Why hadn’t he run away? Why hadn’t he just shot the other direction like he always had when facing larger predators? Why now of all times did he just decide to shut down and beg to not get eaten by some random supernatural creature?

But nothing happened, after about two minutes of whining and belly exposure, Stiles was still alive and in one piece, maybe if he took a peek, perhaps they left.

Oh, his eyes were red, bright crimson red. 

Stiles knows for a fact that human eyes didn’t do that, and human teeth should not look like _that_ either. He hid his face between his paws and began to whine again. Calling himself stupid over and over again for looking at the…the um. What could the man be exactly? A vampire perhaps? He did seem to have long canines. Oh god no, he was going to be drained of his blood and his body was going to shrivel up and –

“Can…can you understand me?” the man asked, his voice was soft but Stiles couldn’t hear anything past the loud beats of his hear. He thought perhaps this was his ticket to a place that _wasn’t_ the woods and whoever this man was, they were some sort of creature of the night, and maybe it was alright to come clean to them? Or what if he was going to snatch him up and then take him to some remote location and have mad scientists dissect him while he was still conscious? So many questions ran through his mind that Stiles didn’t even notice how the man was now kneeling in front of him with a look of worry in his eye. That is until he looked up and was promptly startled by the proximity of the man above him. His limbs were flailing all over the place until he managed to regain his balance.

Stiles took that opportunity to flee, it wasn’t worth the risk of finding safety knowing he could have as easily found another area of danger.

 

*

 

Derek saw the fox sprint away deep into the protective trees that stood tall and proud, letting his ears follow the frantic heartbeat slowly fade away as the orange blur of the fox was no longer visible. When Derek heard the fox follow him for the first few steps, he figured that maybe the fox did have some sort of problem that made it lack fear in humans. But the more he studied the fox, its body movements and the way its little mouth made quick and short movements as if it were talking to itself, how it displayed its belly and humorously hid between its paws at the sound of his growl and the red glow in his eyes, though he was sure it wasn’t humorous for the fox itself, Derek wasn’t so sure this was an ordinary fox.

Derek pondered over this for a moment before he started to make his way back down the same path he came from, focusing on the scent trail that lingered in his nose and the soft cracks of the leaves and sticks beneath him, tying his best not to think about a certain fox and all the plausible explanations of its behavior. Were-fox being one of them.

He failed.

He managed to travel a mile of land and just a few more to go before his ears picked up something in the wind, a screech of pain. It was sudden and high-pitched, the wind elongated the screams and let them travel into Derek’s ear, taunting him with the sounds of pain and torture.

It was a fox.

Derek ran.

The equipment around him slowed him down by a small fraction as he traveled through the thick foliage, nose flared as his lungs were being pumped with air, his heart working double time to make his blood run a little faster, adrenaline in his veins just a little stronger. Everything in his body was working double-time as he ran past the meadow where the butterflies played and through the unforgivingly tall trees that leered down at him. The screeches grew louder and louder and the coppery stench of blood was getting stronger as he looked for the injured fox.

With the turn of his head, he saw the same red fox that he had taken so many photographs of in the meadow, the same fox that had given him a warm smile, the same fox that seemed to murmur to himself as he hid between his paws, had its back leg clamped between a bear trap.

Derek saw the poor thing writhe in pain as it tried to unlatch itself from the device. At every pull, the fox would yell a horrible yell and whimper as its leg was getting crushed by the menacing device. The fox tilted its head up towards Derek with terrified eyes and teeth exposed in a snarl, trying its best to look menacing even through all the pain that it was feeling. Derek knew he wasn’t about to let the poor creature die, something about it was special, unique in its own way and that was something that should never be thrown away. But Derek could also see the shock in the fox as its body began to quiver and its breathing became heavier and frantic, the fox was going to pass out.

In the back of Derek’s conscious, he thought about how it reminded him of a human when they were having an adrenaline spike after experiencing serious trauma to their bodies. The fox was more or less experiencing a state of sheer shock.

Derek rushed to the fainting fox and grabbed at its collapsing body before any more damage could be done to its leg by the sudden fall. The fox didn’t faint, but it simply laid in Derek’s palms panting as if it were having a heat stroke, its eyes were dilated and a heartbeat that Derek could feel was punching through its delicate and small chest.

Derek didn’t know if it was helping or not, but he cooed at the poor creature, whispering little words of how it would all be alright and how Derek would take care of him. His eyes trailed to the leg that was on the bear trap, he hoped it was a clean cut that could easily be fixed considering he saw that the leg was in between two of the massive spikes, a sea of crimson red soaked into its fur and the trap. It would be stupid to try and open up the trap since it’d provoke more damage, he had to figure out how to calm the fox down before he even considered touching the poor thing’s leg.

Derek placed both his hands on the fox’s body, one near its head, the other, just above where its thigh began and began to focus. It had always fascinated him how his kind had the ability to drain someone’s pain away whether it were physical or mental. He focused on the creature beneath him, focused on the tug in his muscles that lulled him to it, demanding to soak up all the pain it could. He could see his veins blacken just above the skin as the tug grew stronger and hungrier. His mother once told him that in the old days, the werewolves that went mad would simply feed off the pain of others, purposefully catching prey but never fully killing it. They just fed and fed on the creatures’ torture until it eventually died and they went off to find another kill. They themselves would die off too with the lack of actual food they never consumed, drowning themselves in the madness that overcame them.

But Derek wasn’t a werewolf gone mad, he was a photographer who just happened to stumble across a strange fox and was currently in the process of trying to drain as much pain away as possible. Minutes passed by and he could see the fox’s breathing calm down little by little until it wasn’t moving anymore, its heartbeat a steady slow rhythm as if nothing bad was happening to it anymore. The fox had passed out.

Derek could feel the tears leak out of his eyes as he sighed in relief knowing the fox would probably be numb from any pain for the next few moments. Pain absorption never inflicted direct pain to a werewolf, but it did leave them with an overwhelmed sense of emotion because along the pain that they took away, they also felt the dull ache and sadness that went along with it. He went back to inspect the trap and cautiously grabbed at it, trying to determine its weight without trying to cause any more damage to the fox’s leg. He would have to make the long trip ahead of him

For a brief moment, he thought he was hallucinating because seeping out of the fox’s wounded leg were little bright golden and wispy tendrils that curled and danced around the bloody leg. Derek saw how they also curled around the metal that clamped down on the leg and seemingly pulling away from the leg. They were trying to set the leg free! Derek could smell the strong scent of magic; it’s intensely sweet aroma made his nostrils flare up. Derek went for the trap, aiding the tendrils in their efforts to let the leg go free as he pulled the trap open with strong hands as he put in all the effort he could in making sure he didn’t make any uncalculated movements.

The fox had yet to show any signs of consciousness.

As the trap began to separate, he saw the tendrils multiply in size and numbers as the leg was finally set free. The leg flopped down but the fox didn’t seem to regain conscious through any of it. Derek tossed the trap next to his gear to remind himself to take the trap back with so no one else would have to suffer a similar fate. He turned back to the fox and watched in amazement as the golden tendrils moved in and out of the wound, threading through the muscle fibers and re-arranging the crunched bone back into its original position.

The tendrils worked hard and meticulous to knit the leg back in place. Derek could see thick yellow puss quickly ooze out of the wound followed by a fresh gush of bright red blood that indicated an infection-free leg and little by little, the tendrils worked like fine needles with threads as the would began to close itself with fresh ease. As the tendrils seemed to work their way back into the body, the only remnants of the trap ever causing the creature pain was the wet patch of blood around the now healed area and the yellow puss.

Derek had two options right now. The first one being he could leave this fox in peace and let it go about his business and Derek can forget he ever saw the creature. His second option was to take the fox back to a family friend that he simply knew by the name Deaton. His parents never did specify the man’s full name. She only told him that he was just a family friend as well as the local veterinarian, but Derek wasn’t stupid and his mother knew that as well. Derek always did suspect the man was some sort of druid, but no one ever did confirm or deny his suspicions.

And right now, Derek wasn’t stupid to think that option number one was the choice. He saw how the fox was eager to follow him back to his home. So he took out a blanket he kept in his bag to gently wrap the fox up and nestle him close to his chest as he made his way back down the trail he came from. Every so often, the fox would stir and whimper in his arms as if it were having a terrible dream. When that happened, Derek would pause and place his hand over the fox’s back to soak up a few seconds of pain before hearing the whimpers stop and then continue his journey.

The sun was already setting upon reaching his truck, a black 2000 Toyota Tacoma, when Derek opened the passenger door and tucked the now sleeping fox in the seat. Making sure it was safely tucked in for the drive, it seemed to snuggle deeper into the blanket; seemingly unaware of its current location. His Camaro he left at home because he simply refused to drive it out here in the wilderness where birds could use it as a practice target. Afterwards he placed his gear in the open space in front of the passenger seat, looking back at the fox every so often to see if it would wake up. Once his gear was settled down, he gave the fox one more quick pain absorption just to make sure if it were to wake up it wouldn’t have some sort of panic attack.

His father told him that over-using this could make person who’s having their pain drained away feel very lightheaded, “Loopy as hell.” He would say.

He locked the passenger door and made his way around to the driver’s side where he started up the car, thankful that he didn’t have music blasting through the speakers for once, and drove off in the direction of a certain veterinarian’s clinic.

 

*

 

“Gold…tendrils?”

“Yes.”

“You’re absolutely sure that’s what you saw?”

“Yes.”

“So you’re telling me that the fox healed all on its ow–”

“For fucks sake, Deaton. YES!”

Derek was growing impatient with the man as his eyes flashed red for the briefest moment, but Deaton didn’t seem to be phased by this at all. The man was an older gentleman, smooth dark skin, bald with nothing but a neatly trimmed moustache and goatee that had a light dusting of gray hairs. He was a veterinarian in their small town, didn’t ever get into trouble and trouble never sought him out. Yet Deaton always knew just what people needed or had to do in order to get out of their own little supernatural fiascos. Just exactly how Deaton knew all of it, Derek would never know. Quite frankly, he really didn’t want to know how the man had such a vast and intricate knowledge in the supernatural.

Deaton and Derek were standing across from another in the surgery room with the still fainted fox that didn’t seem have any intentions on waking up in the table between them. Derek watched as the older man inspected the fox as much as he could without having to touch it just yet. Eyes trailing and pausing every so often; making notes in his mind that would probably serve Deaton better more than Derek.

“Do you think it’s a shape shifter?” Derek asked. He could hear the small hints of frustration in Deaton’s sighs.

“At first I thought so,” He said, “But given you said you saw little gold tendrils come out of it, I can definitely reassure you that he isn’t a shape shifter. It’s not a curse either despite that what you most likely saw was some sort of magic.”

Derek remained silent for a while as he saw the veterinarian’s brows furrow in concentration as he inspected the once broken leg. Deaton grabbed a small cotton swab and gently dabbed the partially wet fur, coaxing it with the blood and puss.

“I’m sensing there’s a ‘ _but_ ’ in there.”

Deaton didn’t bother to look up at him as he spoke, “Yes, yes there is. You see there’s not just one type of magic, Mr. Hale. It all varies from person to person and their intentions on why they want to use magic in the first place. You don’t really need to have a witch bloodline in you to use magic but most of the time if you do, you’ll have a better grasp at it and you’ll have the ability to cast stronger spells and curses.”

Deaton walked to one of the farther corners of the room and right up to a microscope. “What I suspect you’re dealing with here,” He stated as he swabbed his cotton sample on two glass strips to further inspect it under the microscope. “May be something that is a little more than just a spell or a curse.”

Derek looked from the vet to the fox, wondering exactly what kind of situation the fox had been in to even be near any sort of magic “And what does that mean exactly?” Derek asked.

Deaton didn’t answer right away, he just kept staring through the microscope, making little comments such as _oh’s_ and _hmm’s_. Derek knew the vet had found something because he could hear the man make that noise when you’re hit with a sudden realization of something spectacular, well in this case it wouldn’t exactly be considered spectacular, but that would’ve been the closest thing Derek could relate it too. But he could also hear the heartbeat of the man stutter and beat just a little faster than it was a few seconds ago, as to if that was due to something sinister or exciting, Derek couldn’t tell you for certain either.

Deaton opened up one of the large shelve drawers above him and took out one of the glass jars that had some sort of black substance in it which was simply labeled as K4-00-2014 as well as a large orange pill container and…a spoon? The light in Deaton’s eyes made them shimmer with excitement as he set the items to the far end of the table where the fox was still out cold and looked back at Derek.

“What we have here is a shape shifter.” Deaton quickly raised his hand to stop Derek’s accusatory statement of how contradicting Deaton sounded, “At first I truly believed it was magic, I can assure you that, and to some degree it is but it’s a little bit more complex than that. You see humans and shape shifters have very similar blood cells. Both in structure as well as how they interact with their surroundings; it takes a very skilled eye to know be able to identify the differences.” Deaton looked at the fox resting on the table, still unaware of its surroundings. “This fox here has the cell structure of a human but they act as though they were from a born shape shifter, keyword here being ‘ _born’_.” The vet looked up at Derek to see if he was on the same page as him.

“So does that mean he was what, bitten by a werefox or something?” Derek asked but even he knew that wasn’t the case, it still wouldn’t explain why the fox had literal magic come out of its body the way it did in the forest. 

Deaton shook his head, “No, it means that it used to be a human.” Derek could hear him gulp, “And someone used magic to change his biological structure to that of a werefox, but I can only assume that it, _he_ , doesn’t know how to properly turn back considering what you told me how he responded to you.”

Deaton grabbed the jar at the end of the table and when he opened it, Derek could smell the soft scent of mint emitting from the black substance.  He saw the vet dip two fingers to scoop up a small amount and carefully open the fox’s mouth and smear it on the roof of its mouth. “Unlike normal born or bitten shape shifters,” Deaton said as he closed the fox’s mouth and went back to fill up the pill bottle with the thick substance using the spoon this time. “Those who were created via magic tend to have another purpose in mind, most of the time it’s meant to be as a willing offering of their own lives for someone else’s.

That’s why they would turn into shape shifters when their human lives ended and they’d take the shape of the creature the witch thought they would be most compatible with. And trying to analyze the human-to-creature compatibility was something only the strongest and most advanced witches could do. Now a days it’s rarely ever practiced because most people believed it was just a temporary fix. Most people didn’t even know they could transform back into their human forms until later on. Witches have a tendency to leave information out simply to make their lives more challenging.”

Deaton sealed the small container and handed it to Derek, there was sadness in his eyes, “It wasn’t and when people figured that out, most of those witches were hunted down and killed. They failed to understand that sacrificing your own live was a permanent fixture and not something you can simply waltz out of whenever you felt like it.”

Derek looked at the fox one more and could see the a small pink tongue working in and out of its mouth as it began to swallow down whatever mysterious substance Deaton gave him. Clearly it was in the process of waking up. “There’s no way it can go back to being human, can it?” He asked.

“ _Him_ , Mr. Hale, not _it_ and I’m afraid not, the best anyone can do is teach him how to properly shift back in o his human form and see if we can go from there.” Deaton sighed. “It’s a lot to ask of you, but can you take care of him for the next few days? I’m booked with pets the next two weeks and I can’t exactly care for him.”

Derek looked at the fox’s peaceful sleep, or at least that’s what it looked like, the slow rise of its chest and little whimpers that it would make here and there but never opened its eyes. How it reacted to Derek when he saw it in the forest earlier that day and how happy it was to see a friendly face.

“Alright.”

“Thank you, for now I would like for you to keep an eye on him and feed him a teaspoon of that salve every 24 hours; preferably with his last meal of the day. With a little luck, his human senses should start kicking up again. And if you can get some information out of him, I could track down where he comes from. If he wants our help that is.”

“And how exactly am I going to do that?”

“No Snickerdoodles for you, Captain Hook.”

_What?_

They looked at the mumbling fox, its eyes were still closed but what they were hearing was loud and clear. The fox was talking; Derek in shock and Deaton with amusement.

“You can’t have my Snickerdoodles, ‘m saving them 'fer my prince ch’rrmin.”

_What?_

“Well there’s your answer.”

“It talks.”

“ _He_ , Mr.Hale, and yes, most magically changed creatures do tend to have a few…odd traits that normal creatures don’t.”

“Fuck you, Cap’n Hook, you can’t have my _Snickerrrdoooodles_.”

“Don’t worry, Mr.Hale, the sedative I gave him won’t wear off for another few hours, but I think it’d be best for him to wake up in an environment where he could feel more comfortable in. Don’t you think?” Deaton didn’t bother waiting for Derek’s response as he went into one of the doors on the side of the room and came out with what seemed like a clear plastic carrier with several thick and large blankets folded neatly in inside. “These I specifically made sure are scent free so owners could take them home a few days before and cover it in their scent so their pets could have something that could comfort them here if they stayed overnight,” Deaton explained. “Don’t see why it couldn’t work in this case as well, wherever you take him, make sure it’s somewhere safe and use these for the next few days.” He handed the plastic carrier to Derek and went back to wrap the little fox in the same blanket it came in with.

“If you can, Derek, help him learn how to shift once the salve starts taking effect. In the meantime, whatever information you can get from our little friend here, do e-mail me. We can see if there’s anyone out there looking for him.”

Derek nodded and went out to the truck to place the blankets in the backseat and the salve in the cup holder in the front; thinking just how bizarre his life was at that very moment. Sure he knew the supernatural would follow him throughout his life, he was a werewolf for crying out loud, but that didn’t exactly mean he went about find all things spooky and magical. Nope, all Derek wanted to do was have a stable job, hopefully a nice mate who would keep him company until the end of their days and maybe travel the world to see a few things here and there.

But right now, he was stuck with the responsibility of taking care of an unknown werefox that rambled on about Snickerdoodles and could magically heal itself. He went back inside the office to see that the fox was still quite unaware of its surroundings and gently picked it up to cradle it in his arms. The fox shuffled closer to Derek’s chest, seeking warmth and comfort. Derek wouldn’t ever admit that the thing was adorable, but goddamn the thing was adorable.

“A good meal of raw meats and berries would do him good though I’d advise you to stay away from human foods as much as possible if you don’t want him to have a stomach ache,” Deaton explained, “Though a little indulgence in small portions shouldn’t hurt him if he ever actually asks for something.”

Derek grunted in response as he began to walk back out the office, “I’ll contact you as soon as I get any information.”

Deaton didn’t reply, but Derek was sure as hell that he could feel the man’s gaze bore into the back of his head as he left the building, sleeping fox and all.

 

*

 

Getting home was easy, taking a sedative-induced fox into his home was easy, but dealing with a terrified werefox was _anything_ but easy. Derek had placed him on the center of his plush bed where the fox has begun to rise out of its sleep and whatever remnants of friendliness Derek had encountered back in the forest was all but gone when the fox had sprung to life and hissed at him. Derek had little time to react as the thing practically fell off his bed and ran under it, a continuous and threatening growl was all that could be heard.

It’s almost as if the mumbling he heard back at the animal clinic was nothing but an illusion created by his mind.

Because Derek knew better, he knew that the fox wasn’t just some animal; that it had done that out of defense and was more than likely very confused of its surroundings. So he sat on the floor, not right in front of the bed, a good 10 feet away from it to give the fox what little sense of security it had at the moment.

Derek remembered how it felt like to be alone, remembered how despite having all of his family with him, for a few brief seconds of fear, he had truly believed he would stay alone. Kate was her name, a beautiful and much older woman with a strong finesse that Derek seemed drawn to at the young age of 17. He had opened his heart to her, told her his secrets and in return she gave what he thought was pure and devoted love to him. But such illusions can be shattered when you overhear the woman who took you to bed quietly talking on the phone and asking if they had ‘burned the fleabag’s down yet.’

Derek’s heart skipped a few beats that night when he snuck out of the house drenched in the smell of sex and Kate’s perfume; it skipped a few more beats when he was in front of his flame infested house and his thoughts were filled with nothing but the horrible images of flesh burning and charring and the screams of his family that were drowned out by the crackling of the house. At that moment, he felt utterly helpless and completely alone, void of any other emotions that weren’t related to the fear that saturated in his veins. His heart may have stopped completely for a few seconds when he heard his mother calling out his name. He blacked out when he saw her running towards him, his family and pack just behind her. They were safe.

It wasn’t at all difficult pressing charges against Kate, the two captured men who set the house ablaze confessed to everything with a little persuasion. The evidence afterwards came out just as easy.

Derek felt like shit ever since the fire, but through extensive therapy his mother had placed him in, he had come to terms with the fact that the fire wasn’t truly his fault. Not when a woman had manipulated you into giving up your most precious secrets for her own nefarious ways. It’s how Derek made peace with it all, but the memories were a reminder of how cruel the world could be. He didn’t want to come out as a victim of all that mess, he wanted to thrive and be a survivor of the cruelty this world had to offer.

And that’s why Derek Hale is sitting on his floor with a possibly scared person in the form of a fox that’s growling from underneath his bed. Because for a few brief moments, he understood the feeling of being alone and that was more than what ever wanted in the first place. He didn’t want to begin and think what this fox must’ve gone through or for how long. But he was going to try his damn best to find out.

Derek spoke as gentle as he could.

“I’m not sure if you can remember what happened, but I was taking photos of you in that meadow remember?” The growling had paused. “You wanted to follow me and I thought you were just some weird fox that had no business following a strange werewolf back home. But I came back and I heard your cries.” Derek could hear the shuffling of feet and ever so tiny whimpers.

“Your leg got caught in a bear trap and you blacked out from shock. I took you a family veterinarian where we realized what you are, what you _truly_ are; it wasn’t difficult to figure out how you were made either. But the more we talked about how you acted towards me, the more we realized just how little _you_ know about what you are.

"The vet gave you an edible salve while you were knocked out and you started mumbling about Snickerdoodles and Captain Hook.” And as humorous as it was, Derek couldn’t bring himself to make even a tiny smile at the moment. He didn’t hear any sort of response from the fox so he continued on, “What I’m trying to tell you is that you’re in a safe place right now and if you’re willing, if you can even understand me, I’ll help you learn how to shift back to your human form and we can try and figure out where to go from there. If you don’t want our help then…I have no problem taking you back into the forest and you won’t see me again.”

The silence went on for what seemed like an eternity and Derek was beginning to think this wasn’t worth it until he heard the pitter patter of nails scraping across his wooden floor as the fox approached the end of the bed.

The fox’s head peaked out from beneath the bed and observed Derek with suspicious eyes, trying to decipher if he should be deemed safe.

Derek heard a series whines come out of the fox underneath his bed and something about that just made his heart clench even more.

“Stiles.”

Derek’s eyes shot up to meet timid golden ones. “What?”

“My name, that’s my name. Stiles.” The fox’s voice was timid, as if talking had been a foreign concept to him in the first place.

Derek made a small ‘oh’ sound at the new information, it was definitely progress. “I’m Derek.” He noticed the fox’s ears perk up.

“Derek. That’s a nice name.”

It was more progress than Derek could imagine, he couldn’t help but smile.

For the rest of the night and on to the early hours of tomorrow, Derek talked with the fox named Stiles. He had learned that Stiles made the deal with the witch in order to save his father’s life. A noble cause, but Derek had to ask how Stiles thought that, even with his father’s health all better, how he expected his father to go on without him. Stiles who was 17 at the time assumed that a woman named Mellissa would take care of him. He insisted that he left a goodbye letter to his father.

That had been a little over two years ago.

*

_2 Months Later_

Derek was soaking up the last few moments of sleep as the sun began to leak into his room through the thick brown drapes that shielded him from the sun’s bright rays. Finding about Stiles’ past wasn’t at all difficult, he was from a small town not too far away from where Derek and his family were. The missing person’s report they filed for him was accompanied by a boy who was sprinkled with moles and had an upturned nose to accompany the smile that made his eyes crinkle with delight, his hair was going in all sorts of directions and it just seemed to add to his spunky persona. Derek thought about how adorable Stiles looked, though he wouldn’t admit this to him, not even himself.

Trying to convince Stiles that he needed to learn how to shift before even considering taking him back to his father was a whole different situation. Stiles had complained about being away from his father for so long that he had a right to see him, he demanded that Derek take him to Beacon Hills and take him to his father.

Stiles’ protests stopped when Derek argued how Stiles was still in the form of a fox and had no idea on how to turn back into his human body.

Training Stiles wasn’t as difficult as Derek anticipated either despite the fact that Stiles’ body didn’t have the same reaction when it came to full moons. Shifting also seemed to work similar despite the full moon pull on werewolves. At times, Stiles could feel his body contort into a much larger form but it would only last for a few moments before his body retracted to his original state. Derek could tell how Stiles got frustrated at times despite Derek telling him how much progress he had made in just a short time.

It was all about concentration on Stiles part and motivation on Derek’s because at times he could hear the fox’s little whimpers at night when he was curled up into a little ball and curled into Derek’s side; seeking the warmth of the wolf.

At times, he forgot about how Stiles was still part human but it was during those nights, the nights with the whimpers and the little tears that fell from the fox’s closed eyes that he was reminded about the boy who has been alone for such a long time. So Derek would curl himself around the little fox, as protocol of being the bigger spoon, and gently rub at Stiles’ neck and back, soaking up any tension from the tiny creature he was beginning to grow fond of.

Derek wondered as he laid on his bed how long it would take Stiles to learn how to control his shift. He was secretly hoping it would only take for a few more days so he could take Stiles back to his father and let the boy continue on with a normal life. 

As he pondered at the thoughts that cluttered his mind, he tightened his grip on the soft body that was soaking up all the warmth off his body and nuzzled his nose into the soft hair that tickled it. The body felt so nice on him, completely rid of clothes and their limbs tangled underneath the comforter. Perhaps he deserves a few more minutes of sleep considering how much work he’s put into trying to help Stiles shift back. Yeah, just a few more minutes. He felt a face nuzzle at his neck accompanied with a few timid licks and the sound of soft purrs danced in his ears.

Derek mourned over the fact that the body he felt wrapped around him was probably just an extension of his dream.

 

*

 

When he woke up the second time it was to the small burn of tiny claws scratching at his lower back.

“ _C’moooon_ , Sourwolf!” Stiles nagged at him, “My tummy is making the rumblies!”

Sourwolf, that’s a nickname Stiles had given him after the third training session they had. Stiles said it fit him because of his broody eyebrows, which he argued that eyebrows cannot be ‘broody’, Stiles, and you’re an idiot. But Derek would respond to the fond nickname none the less.

Derek let out a dramatic sigh that made his back rise up and down and he could hear Stiles giggle at his act. Getting up off the bed, he made his way towards the master bathroom and stretched his arms above his head; he could hear Stiles clearly say ‘bow-chicka-wow-wow’ but he was still hazy from the great sleep he had and he wasn’t about to let Stiles’ sass ruin it.

Derek was aware of his physical assets, Stiles was definitely aware and while he did on the occasion make a lewd joke here and there about Derek, it never did go anything beyond that. The boy was attracted to him, Derek was aware of that but never did Stiles try to get away with a peeping glance at him or try to fondle him at night with his little paws. Derek was glad about that.

When he finished his business in the bathroom, he went back into the room with a fox patiently sitting in the middle of his bed, looking at Derek with anticipation in his eyes.

It was adorable.

“I want to try something different today for breakfast.”

Stiles’ ears perked up. “Oh?”

Derek nodded and asked, “You ever hunt before?”

The fox nodded. “That’s how I managed to stay alive.” He got off the bed and followed Derek to the living room. “Are we going hunting?”

Derek went to the large trunk in the corner of his living room and took out a backpack that was stocked with extra clothing, water bottles and a few protein bars. “Yeah, remember where I found you? There’s an abundance of rabbit there and I’m pretty sure those instincts of yours are itching to hunt something other than my feet.” He felt smug when he turned around and saw the glare Stiles was giving him, tail flicking with disapproval for the mockery.

“I’ll have you know that those monstrosities you call ‘feet’ were excellent training substitutes.”

 

*

 

After retracing their steps back to their nostalgic meeting point, Derek began to teach Stiles how to hone in on his hearing abilities which would help him not only as a fox but also once he had the ability to shift back into his human form. How it was 20 percent body and 80 percent mind when it came to a shapeshifter’s ability to focus on certain sounds. Sure even if he was a fox for a long period of time, Derek explained how their senses could be hyphened with a little guidance and training without a doubt.

As they reached the edge of the forest and the outskirts of the meadow, Stiles sighed at the sight around him as he stretched his legs out in content, engulfed in the fresh scent of forest and hints of animals here and there. He could honestly say that he was glad to have been caught in that trap knowing it would lead him to Derek. Derek who had been so kind with him and has yet to lie to him. (During the visits to vet with the veterinarian named Deaton, he informed Stiles about a unique ability on how shapeshifters could essentially tell when a person lied due to the stutter of their heartbeat; even the most skilled shifter couldn’t hide a heart stutter. Hell yes)

That’s how Stiles was assured that Derek wouldn’t leave him to fend for himself anymore and for the time being, he had a place he could temporarily call home.

“So when are we going to – OH MY GOD!” Stiles quickly spun around to avoid looking at Derek who was currently undressing himself and revealing the strong contours of the muscles that were wrapped around his body. “Warn a guy next time why don’t you!?” he hissed as he demanded his body _not_ to look behind him.

Derek chuckled as he folded his clothes and placed them inside his backpack, Stiles heard him mutter something about a ‘ _stupid fox_ ’, but there was no malice.

“Stiles, turn around.” Stiles was thankful he was covered in fur so no one could see his blush.

“And why the hell should I do that?” the young fox snapped, “We all know about your God-like body, no need to rub it in the face of the less fortunate.”

“Because you need to see how I shift.”                        

Oh

Right.

Taking a deep breath he got up on all fours and began to turn around to see Derek in all his glory, he may have gaped like a fish but that’s still up for debate. Derek stood there completely unmoved by his nudity, strong thighs dusted with dark hair all the way down his legs and a chest that seemed to have a natural stance of pride. His skin was tanned from what Stiles assumed were due to copious amounts of hours in the wilderness taking photographs under the sun.

Stiles desperately tried not to look at the thick member that was in between Derek’s legs.

“When it comes to shifting,” Derek said, “there’s a lot of similarities between wolves and foxes, the main difference being that wolves are more likely to shift under the moon if they’re not trained at a young age to control it.”  He began to take out the jar of minty salve Deaton had given them and a small plastic spoon. Taking out a small portion he knelt down to Stiles’ level and offered the small portion to him.

Stiles took the offering with no hesitation; finding it almost a bit eerie how he wasn’t exactly bothered by Derek’s nudity either.

The salve, Deaton explained, was meant to help him regain more control over his shifts and ,provide any vitamins and nutrients he may have lacked during his time alone.

“I’ve noticed when you try to shift you focus too much on trying to force it to happen.”

Stiles didn’t respond; he just kept his eyes on Derek as he placed the jar back into the backpack and hung it on a nail he had placed on the tree, waiting for him to continue.

“You need to focus more on letting it flow as it is, even if it’s at a slower pace, but you should never force it to happen. You just have to let it take over you, not the other way around, Stiles.”

“Is that what you do?” he asked.

Derek didn’t answer, instead he let his eyes glow red before letting his body contort and shift into a massive black wolf right before his eyes. Stiles didn’t know if he should be amazed or aroused, probably both.

“Well I guess that answers my question.”

 

*

 

Derek couldn’t speak while he was a wolf but somehow that didn’t seem to stop them for communicating at all. They had a system of yips and growls they exchanged that, while they had no true translation to the English language, were still pretty understandable between the two creatures. Stiles would try and focus on the little sounds here and there, training himself to see how many different sounds he could pick up.

The pitter patter of their feet as they trotted around the forest floor, Derek’s heartbeat and then his own, or the rustling of the bushes as the rabbits tried to hid from them and the crunch of their bones and the stillness of their hearts as Derek’s massive canines sank quickly into their necks; ending their lives in one swift movement.

It filled Stiles with joy as he ripped through the meat with and munched with merriment as they consumed their fourth rabbit. After consuming his portion he looked over to Derek who was lying down with a thick leg between his paw and nibbling away at the remainder of the meat, blood soaked around his muzzle.

And Stiles needless to say, was still quite hungry.

Getting low to the ground as if Derek couldn’t see him from 2 feet away, he crawled towards the black wolf with his ears down and his tail eagerly wagging behind him. With Derek’s mouth still holding on to the leg, he growled at Stiles and bore his red glowing eyes to the fox who was now at his side. Despite that, Stiles felt no legitimate threat and whined at the fox as he looked up at him with pleading eyes.

Derek didn’t budge.

This just wouldn’t do, Stiles was still hungry and he’ll be damned if he would miss the opportunity to get some more meat and mess with Derek at the same time. So he crawled just a few more inches towards Derek’s front and tilted his head up towards the snarling muzzle and blood dripping teeth.

And began to lick at Derek’s bloody muzzle with a whine of hunger. While it did stop Derek’s growling he still wasn’t offering up the delicious rabbit leg.

How dare he not offer up some delicious rabbit leg.

Stiles continued his little ministrations down the wolf’s muzzle and towards the meat, feeling the sharp canines as his tongue trailed across them and letting his nose become engulfed in the scent of blood and Derek. It felt intimate and pure as his own amber eyes were locked with glowing red ones that made his heart want to flutter away.

Finally as Stiles bit down on the meat Derek refused to give him, he let out a series of muffled yips and whimpers to indicate just how hungry he was and seeing as Derek had already eaten prior to leaving the house, it was only fair that Stiles get the most of their prey.

Derek begrudgingly let go of the meat and watched Stiles snuggle next to him as he began to chomp down on the remainder of the leg.

To fascinated by his victory, Stiles didn’t pay attention to how Derek stared at him as he licked over his fox-cleaned canines.

 

*

 

With their bellies full and a day full of running and play fighting, the two decided for a small nap within the tall foliage in the meadow as the skies began to show the first signs of twilight. Derek dreamed of the boy with the upturned nose whose body was still a mystery to him, he’d be a man by now. He slowly began to regain consciousness and became aware of two things.

The first one was that he had at one point shifted back into his human form, the second was that he had his arms wrapped around another large human form whose head was tucked between his neck and shoulders; their legs tangled in an embrace as well.

Derek’s eyes widened in amazement as he took in all the detail of the sleeping boy in his arms; hair longer than the photo in the missing person report, his body was dotted in moles and his body was adorned with toned and long limbs. And oh how warm and soft the boy felt in his arms; how sweet was the scent that Stiles carried which seemed to want to draw Derek in as close to the source as possible.

He gently shook Stiles’ shoulder, “Stiles, hey, Stiles, wake up.”

The boy groaned in protest; Derek shook his shoulder a little harder.

Derek pleaded, “Stiles, you _really_ need to wake up.”

Stiles groaned even more and thought it’d be a good idea to push his front paws at the chest in order to get his point across that he needed his beauty nap. Except as what he pressed on Derek’s chest, he could’ve sworn that his paws aren’t that horrendously big that he could feel most of Derek’s pectorals.

His eyes snapped opened and flailed back trying to take in what has happened to his body. Stiles’ emotions fluctuated between joy and shock as he looked over his body like it was a rare gem among the Earth. “Oh fuck, oh fuck my body’s back!” Stiles’ felt himself laugh as he ran his hands down his arms, chest and legs; trying to remember how it felt to move each limb and muscle.

Derek began to panic because he could hear Stiles’ heart beat accelerate at an alarming rate. “Stiles, calm down!”

Stiles looked up at him as if Derek was a madman for even suggesting that. The one thing they had been working on for the last two months with little to no success was finally done and Derek wanted him to calm down?

“Why would I –” his words were cut off by the same feeling that tugged at his bones when his body shifted all those years ago. “No no no no!” he began to panic as he felt his bones shift and his muscles clench and relax as he dropped to the soft ground beneath him. Stiles’ heart sank and panic began to fill his senses as he tried with all his might to fight off the need to change back into a fox.

“Stiles, you need to stop fighting it!”  Derek demanded.

Stiles opened his eyes up not realizing he had closed them in the first place and glared at Derek. “Fuck you, I don’t want to go back to being a fo–” his sentence was once again cut short by the contorting of his body as a growl began to emit from his throat.

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed with concern, “Stiles, listen to me. You _need_ to stop fighting it, you’re going to hurt yourself!” Derek grabbed Stiles’ by the shoulders and began to drain as much pain away as he could but even with that, the expression of pain didn’t remove itself from Stiles’ face.

“Let go and don’t fight it, Stiles. For fucks sake just trust me!” he growled at the writhing boy who seemed to finally take notice of him.

Tears began to leak out of Stiles’ eyes as his body continued to shift relentlessly. Through all the chaos, Stiles told himself to focus on Derek’s heartbeat that was loud, steady and truthful. He allowed his body to relax and he whined through the pain that his body felt and prayed to all the gods that it would soon be over. It hurt so fucking much.

But the longer his body shifted, the more Stiles began to realize that the pain was fading and the more he was realizing that his body wasn’t shifting into a fox. Rather it was just in a state of moving and shifting his muscles around his bones.

Stiles began to feel a tug in his core that he tried to focus on next but not fight as Derek insisted, he could feel the shift slow down but that _tug_ was persistent and taunting him as if it were something Stiles couldn’t reach or dare touch. 

Maybe it was the way he could feel Derek try to drain the pain away from his body as a strong hand gripped his shoulder, maybe it was the way his body began to feel numb after the endless minutes of pain they felt, but something inside him wanted to prove the tug that mocked him wrong.

It was a confidence that began to stir and stir until it began to replace the dread in him.

Stiles focused on the tug in the core of his being, almost like an extension of his own muscles that wrapped around his body trying to mummify him. Slowly, he tried to contract the muscles in his body trying to work with the tug that enveloped him; working with where he felt the shift focus more on and following it around his body, working with his body to make the shift the least painful as possible.

And then it stopped.

There was no pain, no more shifting or contorting of his muscles and bones and there was certainly no more tug; the tears in his eyes had dried a long time ago.

Stiles cautiously opened his eyes and saw that the twilight was already in its final stages and the fireflies were beginning to dance around them; he wondered exactly how long he was actually there writhing in pain.

“Stiles,” Derek called out to him and Stiles could only stare at him from the ground he laid on. A warm smile began to form itself on Derek’s face and his eyes glittered with excitement. “You did it.”

 

*

 

The more they practiced with Stiles’ shift the more eager they became when it was time to take Stiles back to his home in Beacon Hills. Relaxation, Stiles realized, was the key to shifting but it was definitely a challenge for him considering the last thing he could be was relaxed when it came to the next few days. But through the eagerness and excitement there grew something the two were not prepared for. It came through the stares that became marginally longer and the glances at each other’s lips and the comfort they took in one another, whether if it was Derek explaining his job to Stiles as Stiles spooned at the jar of minty salve or simply catching him up on the latest movies he missed over the years in Derek’s living room as they unconsciously huddled closer to one another.

Whatever it was, they both seemed to become aware of it little by little.

Then the morning of the day they felt Stiles was in control enough that he could finally go home.

Since the first day Stiles’ shifted, he no longer slept in Derek’s bed and was given the guest bedroom and some of Derek’s clothes which clung loosely on him; Stiles didn’t mind, he secretly enjoyed the scent the clothes offered him. But on this morning, Derek had woken up to a body wrapped underneath his arms.

Stiles’ sweet scent danced in his nostrils as he sniffed at the boy’s unruly hair, completely aware of the fact that Stiles was very much awake. “What’re you doing here, Stiles?” his voice was nothing but a soft whisper as he pressed Stiles closer to him; Stiles slipped one hand around his waist and traced his hand on the small of Derek’s back.

“I’m scared.”

Derek grazes his lips over his forehead, letting them trail over the delicate skin. “What about?” He can hear Stiles sigh as if he doesn’t want to even begin answering that question, but he does.

“Everything – how my dad’s going to react, how the hell am I going to tell him about what I did? And,” Stiles’ grip tightens around him, “Derek, am I ever going to see you again?”

To Stiles, the silence was maddening, just on the edge of falling over and crashing whatever little comfort he may find in the dimness of Derek’s bedroom. But Derek didn’t let go and his lips never stopped peppering butterfly kisses on his forehead. “You’ll always have a place here, Stiles.”

And yeah, Stiles’ heart may or may not have skipped a beat or two.

“And I don’t think you’re a stupid enough fox to think I’m about to get out of your life any time soon,” Derek teased.

He really didn’t know what to say at that point, what could he say? A simple ‘thank you’ wouldn’t suffice. So Stiles, brave little Stiles, slowly lifted his head up to meet Derek’s eyes that glowed a low crimson red underneath the long lashes; he was almost certain his own irises were a bright gold as well by now. The air thickened around them as their breaths mingled and Derek’s eyes kept trailing down towards Stiles’ lips then back at his eyes, silently asking permission,  pleading with him of the desire he wanted to show him.

Stiles closed his eyes and slotted their lips together and let instinct take over.

And for the first time in the last two years, Stiles felt truly safe.

In the arms of Alpha Derek Hale.

 

*

 

At the early hour of 6:30 in the morning, the ride to Beacon hills was only a little under an hour with little to no traffic on the highways. Stiles insisted they take Derek’s Camaro, Derek didn’t argue with him. Deaton had given them updates throughout the course of Stiles’ training at it seemed that Stiles’ father was definitely still living in the same house Stiles grew up in. The nerves in his stomach drew him in and out of consciousness as the trip progressed; the soft noise of the GPS giving Derek directions towards his home blended in the background as he felt the car make left and right turns.

He started becoming more aware about how frequent the car started to make turns but gave no attention to it until the car came to a soft stop.

As if never sleeping in the first place, he effortlessly opened his eyes and could see that they were parked in the driveway of his home, it looked exactly as it did the day he made the deal with the witch. Stiles focused on the sounds coming from inside the house and could detect what he assumed was his father’s heartbeat and the soft steps of his feet as he moved about the house.

He felt Derek’s hand grab at his shoulder and looked over to the man who had saved him from the bear trap all those weeks ago. He gave Stiles a reassuring smile and a curt nod. They made their way to the front porch and instantly Stiles was overwhelmed with the scent of home and family; tears began to escape from his eyes and his bottom lip began to quiver.

Stiles felt Derek’s hand wrap around his own, interlocking their fingers in an effort to ground Stiles. “We’ll tell him everything together,” Derek reassured him.

Stiles tightened his grip on Derek’s hand and with the other, he knocked on the door.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [TUMBLR](http://yourlovelyalpha.tumblr.com/) I draw :D


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